The bodies are already cold


I see them through the window
The demons they are
coming
and I am trapped in walls of
fire the flames licking
hope and hungrily devouring
trust climbing bricks like
acrobats dancing through lie
holes and tumbling over
backwards leaving
smoky reminders behind that
trace figures of hell onto
canvases of thought
my ash
choked scream is caught in
the charred vacuum of loss and I
keep falling through orange
touched chasms ripped open by
heat and all I have to hang
onto are blazing illusions.

I see them through the blackened window
the demons they are
coming
and maybe it is fear that is
burning me alive.

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